Beer & Chocolate
by Envy Etiquette
Summary: Following the war, Hermione and Ron were supposed to live happily ever after. That was until tragedy hit their family and a certain Malfoy became much more prevalent in Hermione's life. Suddenly the relationship with her school sweetheart is called into question and where does that leave Hermione and the already married Lucius Malfoy? A bit of HG/RW, quite a bit more HG/LM.
1. Chapter 1

**Writer's Ramble:** I don't know if it's still required, but I'll go ahead and throw out the "I don't own anything, it all belongs to J.K. Rowling, no copyright infringment intended, and so on and so forth." Moving on, it has been quite awhile since I've written anything so bear with me while I shake off the rust. Please also take into consideration that this is not PWP so don't expect a bunch of smut in the first chapter. Also, I don't find Lucius and Hermione locking eyes once then falling madly in love to be believable therefore that's not really how this story goes. Lastly, I do not hate Ron, and there is some HG/RW. On with the story then...

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In a sense, they used to be a golden couple. After the war ended, they were all finally supposed to get a chance at a happy ending. The Boy Who Lived was now a successful auror madly in love with the youngest Weasley child; she and Ron were meant to be the same way. Five years after Voldemort's downfall, however, she was in tremendous pain, a kind she never knew possible. It was like constantly drowning with no hope for air.

At twenty-three, Hermione had found herself exceptionally successful at the Ministry of Magic working for the Department of International Magic Cooperation. Her cleverness and tact had led the head of the department to take her under his wing as a protégé. At twenty-two, Hermione had an equally satisfying personal life; she and Ron had wed shortly following the war and bought a quaint flat just outside London. Though not as ambitious as his wife, he also fared well at the Ministry while working for the Department of Magical Games and Sports. They were young and finally carefree. For once, Hermione and Ron had a chance to enjoy their youth until it all came abruptly to a halt.

"Ms. Granger, did you hear a word I said?" Hermione's boss caught her attention by using her maiden name. Though she often responded to Mrs. Weasley, she had made the decision to formally and legally keep the muggle name she was born with. "Ms. Granger?"

"Sorry, Mr. Rosier. The, um, reports you requested are filed by date on your desk. They, err, are just waiting your review, sir." Mr. Rosier eyed the brunette before him critically.

"Thank you, my dear, you're dismissed for the day."

"But sir, it's barely noon, I'm sure there is more work to be done." Hermione's eyes had an imploring look to them which her boss either chose to ignore or did not take notice.

"I can assure you, Ms. Granger, that it can wait. Please take the afternoon to find something suitable for tonight's Ministry gala. I would like the department to be well represented, it does help with funding."

Hermione had forgotten entirely about the semi-annual party, but nodded in resigned acceptance of her boss' words. Though she could hardly focus these days following the incident and her since deteriorating marriage, she needed work to distract her from her worst thoughts. When she apparated home, she found those thoughts briefly erased. Lying on her bed was a beautiful scarlet chiffon dress. It was knee length with lace cap sleeves and never before had she loved a garment so much. Next to it was a note that left a rare smile on her lips.

"To my beautiful wife - I know that a social Ministry function is probably not high on your list right now, but I thought it couldn't hurt for you to be the loveliest witch in the room. And in case you don't give a shit about a silly dress, there's a box of your favorite chocolates on the dresser. Love, Ron"

Eight hours and three truffles later, Hermione had slipped on her dress, pulled back her hair, and pasted on a smile. She made polite small talk with her boss' wife, briefly spoke to Harry and Ginny, and even held the minister's ear for a minute or two. Ron had even convinced her to dance, but she had the disconcerting feeling she was being watched. Her eyes scanned the room twice before landing on the sharp grey eyes staring daggers into her. Lucius Malfoy was standing among several important Ministry officials accompanied by his wife who was looking quite modelesque in her black gown, yet his eyes were trained on her.

"What's wrong?" Her husband asked lightly. Ron, who had taken to tiptoeing around her most of the time, was looking at her cautiously. Hermione shook her head, but continued to watch Lucius watching her.

"Nothing, I just need something to drink. Excuse me a moment."

Hermione found herself at the bar ordering firewhiskey to calm her nerves. There had been something distinctly unsettling about the way the Malfoy patriarch had been staring at her.

"Awfully brazen dress, Mrs. Weasley, but then I guess muggle-borns can frequently lack the grace and understated elegance that comes with pure breeding." Hermione finished her liquor before responding to the man who had approached her.

"Forgive me, Mr. Malfoy, but you wouldn't know grace if it was adhered to your forehead with a permanent sticking charm."

"Oh, how delightfully sassy you are. Tell me, does that husband of yours arise even remotely as much emotion out of you as I just did?"

"I beg your pardon?" Hermione narrowed her eyes at the blond leaning against the bar as he sized her up. He ordered two glasses of the finest white wine before continuing the conversation.

"Well, being as powerful a wizard as I am, it requires I make certain appearances, painfully dull as they may be." Lucius took a moment to swirl one of wines that had been placed before him then took a sip. "Tonight, however, watching how painfully uncomfortable you are with what you call a husband...it's just been delightful."

"Before you stick your nose into my relationship, perhaps you should consider your own." Hermione smiled wryly as she spoke. "After all, Mrs. Malfoy should be holding your eye, not I."

"Narcissa and I are compatible in ways your simple lineage could never allow you to comprehend. I suppose with a Weasley, though, you're bound to get simple."

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Ah, never you mind. Best to get back to him then." Lucius smirked as he returned to his wife with two drinks in hand. Hermione ordered another and watched the dance floor clear as the silent auction began.

"Ministry workers and guests, welcome again to our semi-annual Ministry of Magic British Wizarding Gala," Kingsley boomed across the room in his deep voice from the stage in front of the dance floor. "As is tradition, we will end the night with a silent auction benefiting St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. This year's items include four box seats at the next Quidditch World Cup, a weekend dragon safari for two observing Norwegian Ridgebacks, a goblin-made sword encrusted with onyx, and lastly, donated most generously, a necklace formally belonging to Helena Ravenclaw, the daughter of Hogwarts co-founder Rowena Ravenclaw. The bidding will conclude in one hour." Hermione eyed each of the items in turn before making her way back to Ron.

"I'm ready to go home," She muttered.

"You don't want to see who wins what?" Ron asked, looking as though he very much would like to see who would win what.

"No, I'm tired." Hermione quickly made her way to the foyer and disapparated back home, briefly catching Lucius' eye on her way out. Back in her bedroom, with a wave of her wand she was in a simple tank and shorts and makeup free, her new dress now hung in her closet. As she sat down at the foot of the bed, Ron appeared with a sharp crack.

"When are you going to talk to me, 'Mione?" He was staring down at her, still in his dress robes.

"What are you on about, Ronald?"

"I mean, for Merlin's sake, you said more words to Luicus Malfoy than to me tonight." Hermione considered his words, but said nothing. "Baby, it was ten months ago. I know it hurts, but I just want us to be us again, for us t-to move past this."

"How can you expect us to just go back to before?" Hermione found herself suddenly on her feet with her voice rising with each successive word. "We lost a child, Ronald, a child! Maybe you don't care because you weren't carrying a tiny human in your tummy for seven months, you couldn't feel her like I could, but I...I...I feel like I failed her. Something I did killed her!"

"Gods, Hermione, you know that's not true!" Ron's face had become a shade comparable to his hair as he continued the shouting match. "All you do is blame yourself and I have to be so concerned for what you're feeling that I don't even remotely have time to grieve myself!"

"You? Grieve?" Hermione elicited a derisive laugh at his statement. "Ron, it's like it never even happened for you! Like you weren't there when Lorna was born and didn't cry! Like you didn't see how blue she was! As if you were watching the doctors try to save someone else's child, not ours!"

"Well, maybe if you'd had her at St. Mungo's with healers instead of at some muggle hospital-"

"I knew it. You do blame me for choosing a muggle birth."

"That's not what I meant, just-"

"Just what, Ronald? You know what, forget it. Today's been long enough, I'd like to rest now."

Hermione had no more words for her husband as she climbed into bed. She focused her entire attention on a novel as he changed clothes and repeatedly made attempts at conversation. Eventually he gave up and took his pillow to the living room couch along with the extra duvet from their closet. Hermione eventually fell into a restless sleep punctuated by hospital hallways and strong grey eyes.

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And so here we have the beginning. Next chapter will be done soon, hopefully. Cheers.


	2. Chapter 2

Two weeks after the gala, Ron and Hermione had not improved their communication or anything else about their circumstances. Quite the contrary, for the first time, Ron had not come home the previous night and she just caught a glimpse of him dozing on the couch before apparating to work on a chilly Monday morning. Despite her marital problems, Hermione was determined to maintain her performance at work. Her morning had been going well until a knock broke her concentration. Standing before her desk was a slim young man with dark, unruly hair and sparkling green eyes.

"Harry! Hi! What can I do for you?" The Boy Who Lived offered her a small smile in response.

"Hermione. I was in the office today doing paperwork and I just dropped in to see if you had any plans for lunch? I was hoping to speak to you about Ron."

"Actually," Hermione quickly searched for the easiest way out of discussing her marriage. "I'm sorry, I was planning to work through my lunch hour. Mr. Rosier has been very busy with the minister lately as the French have been considerably less cordial since their loss in last year's Quidditch World Cup."

"It was a good day to be English." Harry smiled at the memory of the game. "It had been a long time since England had won the cup."

"Be that as it may, the French are now considerably less cooperative after a 150-140 defeat," Hermione scowled as the words left her mouth. Even though it was not necessary to work through lunch, her job had become more convoluted following the 2002 championship. "They're still saying that the referee made a bad call not giving them that last foul shot. It's made my work a bit more tedious."

"Well, I'll be frank then," Harry suddenly looked as though he tasted something unpleasant. "Ron was with me last night. He really doesn't know what to do anymore. He was utterly pissed when he arrived and told me he believed you were going to leave him. It's lucky Ginny didn't see him in the state he was in."

"Harry, I..." Hermione sighed heavily. "Look, Harry, I really must be getting back to work. We'll discuss this later, okay?"

"Fine, have it your way." Harry turned to leave the office then stopped halfway to the door. "He really does love you, you know, and none of this has been easy on him either. Just remember that."

Hermione returned to her reports trying to push Harry's words and thoughts about her difficult marriage to the side so she could better focus. She had almost succeeded when a man clearing his throat broke her concentration again.

"Gods, does no one make appoi-" Her words cut off at the sight of the regal man in the doorway.

"Mrs. Weasley. I wish I could I say it's a pleasure to see you, but..." Lucius Malfoy scoffed as he walked across the threshold into the office with his cane. "Well, anyway, I'm here to see Damien and you'll find, funny enough, that I do indeed have an appointment, though I daresay it seems more a perfunctory courtesy than absolutely necessary."

The blond stared down at her while she skimmed the appointment book. There, written in brilliant blue ink, read 'L. Malfoy - 14:30', although not in her handwriting as she knew her boss thoroughly disliked Monday meetings. Hermione silently cursed the assistant who worked on the weekends and had scheduled the only Monday appointment.

"My apologies, Mr. Malfoy, but Mr. Rosier is not in the office at the moment. He's been with the minister most of the morning..."

"But as it is now afternoon and I went through the trouble of scheduling an appointment, he's certainly returned or I would have been notified, is that not correct?"

"Sir, I did not record this appointment, Aimee did, I didn't-"

"You didn't what? Bother to do your job? Is this honestly the only help Damien can come across these days, a witch who can't even maintain a schedule?" Just as Hermione opened her mouth to retort, her boss entered the office.

"Lucius, cousin, what a lovely surprise," The older man exclaimed as he clapped Malfoy on the shoulder. "I hope Ms. Granger has been keeping you entertained in my absence?"

"Granger? Surely this woman is married into the Weasley clan?"

"Now, now, Lucius, my subordinate has politely requested I call her Ms. Granger and so I comply. Her family is not my business unless she chooses to share. Please, follow me into my office and you can tell me what was so important you needed to see me on such short notice. Ms. Granger, cancel any more appointments for the day, I will be heading to France as soon as my cousin and I are done here. After you, Lucius."

Hermione took a breath she didn't realize she had been holding as soon as the door closed behind the two men. She couldn't believe the kind man that was her employer of the last four years was a relative of blood purist Lucius Malfoy and found it even more surprising that, up until now, she was unaware of that fact. She was also struggling with the increasing frequency she was encountering Malfoy. His son was a detestable, privileged prat and knowing the man who made him that way was not something Hermione was really interested in. Still, he did have a way of arising emotion in her, regardless of how negative that emotion was, and these days she was grateful for anything that did. So in a way, she was grateful for Lucius Malfoy, though she would never admit it to anyone.

An hour later, Hermione was regretting skipping lunch and had seen no sign of Malfoy or Rosier. Just as she began weighing the pros and cons of sneaking down to the cafeteria for a quick snack, Lucius exited her boss's office.

"Damien has departed for Lyons, he requested I inform you that you may leave as soon as your reports are finished, Miss...Granger."

"Thank you," Hermione responded curtly. With a flick of her wand, her reports sorted themselves in her outbox and her desk cleared itself leaving only a quill atop it. Lucius watched her do this while making no move to exit the office.

"I've always known being a Weasley was almost worse than being a mudblood, but if you didn't want to be one, you shouldn't have married into the family. Spinsterhood suits you."

"Go to hell, Malfoy." A smug smile played on Lucius' lips at Hermione's reaction. "What on Earth gives you the idea that I'm not proud of my family?" Hermione asked as she pulled on her cardigan over her shift dress, hoping for a condensed version of whatever Lucius had planned.

"Keeping your maiden name? A muggle maiden name at that? Well, women only keep their last names for two reasons, whether they know it or not. They either have too much pride carried in their surname or they don't expect to be married long."

"Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but I don't find myself particularly prideful and I love my husband."

"You misunderstand me, I never said you didn't. I simply said you would not be married long. Good day, Mrs. Weasley, might as well enjoy the name while you can."

When Hermione arrived home, Lucius' words were swimming in her mind. She kicked off her heels, stripped off her sweater, and simply took a moment to breathe. The flat was empty apart from Crookshanks and Pigwidgeon, giving Hermione time to process her thoughts while she began dinner. As her pasta boiled, she conjured a Newcastle from the refrigerator and took a large sip. Hermione's affinity for muggle alcohol was lost on Ron, but he refrained on commenting on her drinking following her stillbirth. The slight buzz she was achieving allowed a more objective look at her interactions with Lucius Malfoy, sans the blatant denial.

After the war, Lucius had greased all the right palms to ensure he would not land himself back in Azkaban. Hermione found herself startled by the true extent of his wealth and his cunning that managed to get him back into so many people's good graces. She was trying to discern why he had taken a liking to conversing with her lately. If she was honest with herself, she knew he must have an ulterior motive, for while he had always opposed her based on principle alone, he had never previously made such effort to verbalize his disapproval. Another peculiarity was how something about the way he looked at her didn't quite coincide with his words; his gaze felt evocative of an appraisal, as if he were critiquing, not merely criticizing. Hermione, still lost in her thoughts, had just finished her second drink and began plating the food when the distinct crack of a person apparating caught her attention. She shoved her inner dialogue on Lucius back into her subconscious before greeting her husband.

"Hello, Ronald."

"Hermione, I can-"

"Just a moment, Ron, we can discuss it over dinner." Hermione drew wand and muttered, "Wingardium Leviosa." The plates and two glasses of pumpkin juice floated serenely to the dining table where they situated themselves on two place mats across from each other. She took her seat and motioned for Ron to do the same.

"You didn't come home last night," Hermione spoke as she took her first bite, barely tasting anything. "You've never done that before."

"I was at Harry's, I swear it, he'll tell you the same."

"I'm well aware, he dropped by my office this morning." Hermione eyed Ron, noting the uneasiness playing on his features. "He also said you were pissed drunk, which is a bit out of character. And don't you get mad at him for telling me," Hermione added, reading his expression like a book. "He's my best friend, too, and he meant well. Feel free to tell me why, though."

"I just needed to relax, Hermione," Ron said as he picked at his food. "Thing have been so tense with us lately. It makes me wonder if we rushed things a bit." Hermione's eyes narrowed at this sentiment.

"Rushed what, precisely?" Ron took a brief sip of his pumpkin juice then answered.

"I don't know, getting married? Trying for a baby? I understand that all any of us wanted was some happiness after everything, some normalcy, but maybe that wasn't fair for us. Maybe we weren't ready yet, we were barely nineteen. Maybe we did everything so quickly to give our families cause for celebrating."

"Well, I apologize if knowing me eight years previous was too brief for you. I thought we wed because we loved each other."

"You know what I mean, 'Mione, of course I love you. I just mean it's been a lot of pressure on us growing up so fast and then with Lorna...well, it certainly didn't make things easier. I'm just worried you're going to leave, that you'll find some bloke to start fresh with or we just won't get better." Hermione eyed Ron's casual body language before asking the question she knew she'd later regret.

"Are you worried I'm going to leave or are you just waiting for me to do it?" As soon as the words were out, Hermione wished she could gather them all back. The blood had drained from Ron's visage and Hermione couldn't tell if he was furious, hurt beyond words, or some horrible combination of the two. Abruptly, Ron stood from the table, avoiding any eye contact with the witch in the room.

"I, um," Ron spoke in an eerily calm voice. Too calm for what Hermione knew was masking rage. "I'm going to go stay with Harry and Ginny for awhile, see if they'll let me kip there."

Before Hermione could say anything else, her husband had vanished leaving his food untouched and her alone at the dinner table. She sighed as her earlier conversation with a certain pure-blood aristocrat replayed in her mind. She only thought one thing as she conjured another beer to her place at the table.

Damn you, Lucius Malfoy.

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Hoped you all like it, please feel free to review and let me know what you think so far. For those of you who are shipping LM/HG: Be patient, it's coming. Cheers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Writer's Ramble:** Firstly, I'd like to thank everyone who has reviewed, favourited, or followed so far. It's both exciting and encouraging every time I get an e-mail notifying me of it so thank you. Without further ado...

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The next day welcomed another busy morning at the Ministry of Magic. Hermione had managed about two hours of restive sleep the night before and was very much running on a dazed autopilot. The rest of the week was much of the same. There were no bad dreams keeping her awake, just her mind racing with thoughts of Ron and how no matter how she tried, she didn't yet feel the same way about him as she had prior to her becoming pregnant. Occasionally, a thought of the senior Malfoy would make its way into her head, and she was very grateful the junior Malfoy did not work at the Ministry to spur these thoughts even further. When Friday came around, she felt like she had never been as thankful for a weekend in her life. As was common on Fridays, Rosier let her leave at three instead of four, which gave Hermione ample time for a trip to Honeydukes.

Being anywhere in Hogsmeade always made Hermione a bit nostalgic for her days at Hogwarts, but Honeydukes carried the best chocolate in the magical world and she was certainly craving some. She stocked up on truffles, Cauldron Cakes, and Chocolate Cauldrons then decided to head to the Three Broomsticks before heading back to her flat. As empty as her home felt now that Pigwidgeon had joined Ron at Harry's leaving just her and Crookshanks, she felt more comfortable in the company of strangers and warm firelight. That was, of course, until she spotted one Lucius Malfoy at a table a few metres away. She took a deep breath and a chose to ignore him; after all, she couldn't very well leave the bar where she now sat without ordering anything. As Madam Rosmerta placed a tumbler of firewhiskey on the rocks before her, she chanced a glance at the wealthiest man in the room.

He was speaking to a young wizard who appeared to be no older than seventeen and likely a current Hogwarts student. Judging by the permanent sneer etched on his face and his haughty countenance, she deemed him a Slytherin. Lucius' fingers were drumming against the silver snake atop his cane as he listened disinterestedly to the boy. Hermione turned her attention back to her drink before Lucius could catch her gaze.

"You think you would've learned never to turn your back on an opponent by now, Mrs. Weasley."

"I wasn't aware I had to consider you an opponent these days, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione said over her glass. Lucius had taken the stool to the right of her and leaned his cane against the bar between them. When she looked to where he sat formerly, the Slytherin boy had gone. "Why do I feel as though your business in the Three Broomsticks this evening has been nothing less than nefarious?"

"I simply like to have eyes and ears everywhere, Mrs. Weasley, I find it to be rather...prudent."

"Please, if you're going to continue this inane conversation, Granger would do just fine." Lucius summoned Madam Rosmerta for a glass of white wine and motioned for Hermione's glass to be refilled before addressing her statement.

"I see. Merlin knows I'm always right, but today I've even surprised myself with the celerity of my prediction." The brunette witch watched with minor intrigue as the blond man next to her again swirled his wine before tasting it.

"It's my formal name," She spoke while eyeing her second drink. "I like to use it professionally, nothing more."

"But we're not in the office, Miss Granger," Lucius said between dignified sips of his wine. "And you're here with me and distinctly lacking Mr. Weasley after all."

"I could say the same about Mrs. Malfoy as it appears you've finished your business and are no longer required here."

"Narcissa and I know where we stand." Lucius spoke between stiff lips. He looked as though he had more to say, but instead reached for his glass. They continued their conversation over Hermione's third drink with only mild insults thrown between each other. Hermione was still trying to figure out Lucius' angle, though he seemed adamant to not yet give it away.

"So tell me, what would it take to get you into my quarters here at the inn?" Lucius inquired as he pushed away his empty wine glass.

"Clearly I must not have heard you properly," Hermione exclaimed, wide-eyed.

"Oh, I feel quite sure you did, though I believe your filthy mudblood mind may have presumed a meaning I did not imply. My reasoning is I like to keep my lengthier conversations a bit more private than a barroom can provide." Hermione downed the dregs of her firewhiskey, savoring the sensation of the icy burn down her throat that filled her extremities with tingly warmth.

"Lead the way, Malfoy."

If you ever asked Hermione why she accepted Lucius' offer, she would never be able to tell you. For some reason, that constant drowning feeling subsided when she was in the older wizard's company; it was like breaking out of a rip tide - breathing, but nowhere near safe. Perhaps it was the challenging wit he offered or a morbid curiosity about the former Death Eater. Maybe she really just needed to cut back on her firewhiskey. Regardless of what led her to her decision, a few short minutes later Hermione found herself in what she expected was the nicest room the Three Broomsticks had to offer. Lucius shed his traveling cloak and offered to take the muggle leather jacket shrouding Hermione.

"Why the niceties all of a sudden? You and I both know you have an unparallelled disdain for my kind."

"That may very well be true, but if you would like answers, I require a moment." Lucius began sifting through an attaché case on the desk. Hermione watched curiously as he pulled out a piece of parchment and a jet black quill. She started questioning her choice to come up to the room when Lucius began writing without any indication of what he was doing. She checked her watch which revealed it was just after seven. A few minutes later, he put down the quill, withdrew his wand from his cane and tapped the scroll. "Please read this, and if you wish to continue, sign."

Hermione moved to the desk, and as she read each loftily scribed word, her eyes grew larger with bemusement.

"A confidentiality agreement? You must be joking, Malfoy! Just to talk to you?"

"My social standing has been in a particularly precarious state these last few years. I do not believe in leaving anything up to chance, Miss Granger." Hermione glanced at document then to the man in front of her who wore an expression of utter indifference.

"What kind of magic did you use?"

"A binding non-disclosure spell. It would prevent you from breaching confidentiality." Malfoy idly tapped his fingers along his cane while Hermione hosted an internal debate clouded by liquor.

"It would prevent me from breaching confidentiality...what exactly would happen if I should?" She managed to ask.

"Nothing. You quite literally would not be able to verbally, whether that be written or spoken, disclose anything we discuss here."

Hermione heaved a great sign, then turned back to the desk. She picked up the quill and signed the bottom.

"Merlin help me, I don't know why I am doing this." Hermione returned to facing the wizard in the room with hands on her hips. "Well, let's hear it then. I believe we were starting with your hatred of mudbloods."

"Oh, you really should not sign legal documents when you've been drinking. Perhaps muggle-borns lack that common sense." Hermione rolled her eyes at Malfoy's statement, watching as he briefly inspected the parchment. "Well, let's be honest. I wouldn't say the war or the changes at the Ministry have reformed me. It's much too late for that and Malfoys find no need for reformation." Lucius took a seat in front of the fire while Hermione awkwardly stumbled into the one across from him. "Still, I would like to get to know you. I find myself distinctly intrigued by a muggle-born with such magical prowess. You, Ms. Granger, are something that should not have been. You should have been as unremarkable and non-magical as your muggle parents."

"Do you even realize half the time you're insulting somebody?"

"Yes, but it would seem I do not care about such trivialities. So, what has caused a rift between you and one of the few wizards who would have a muggle-born such as yourself?"

"Who said we were having problems?"

"Don't play coy with me, girl," Lucius said coolly. "I have neither the patience nor the interest."

"We lost a child," She said with eyes closed and wondered why Lucius Malfoy was the first person she was discussing this with. "It does something to a marriage, sustaining a loss like that. Speaking of marriage, care to elaborate on yours?" Hermione knew there was little chance of Malfoy letting her change topics so easily, but he gave her a reprieve.

"I've been married twenty-eight years," He said simply.

"No, no, that's not how this is going to work, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione replied as she opened her eyes to stare at him. "I answer one of yours, you answer one of mine. Your marriage?"

"A witch who fights for control...how admirable," Lucius said with a voice inarguably lacking any signs of admiration. He sighed before continuing. "My marriage is a sophisticated business agreement that's proved advantageous for both parties. Many of those between families of appropriate blood status are."

"Hmph. Appropriate blood status," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Do you even love her?"

"I love her as mother of my heir. I care for her a great deal. I would not say I was in love with her in a traditional sense. That makes two, by the way, Miss Granger." Hermione merely glared at him. "Why do you stay with him?" Hermione closed her eyes again, it seemed to make responding truthfully less difficult.

"Unlike you, I married for love," She murmured to the air. "I'm not ready to give up on that yet."

"I see, and the reason you're with me this evening?"

"You're different from everything else...separate, compartmentalized," She said. "You're not a reminder of the worst day of my life. Sometimes I need things to take my mind off it." She opened her eyes once more and stared into the cold grey ones studying her. "Why me?"

"I enjoy a challenge, though you're proving easier than I presumed." Hermione scoffed and waved her hand for him to continue. "You may also fill a niche of mine. You see, every now and again, I am intimate with muggle women."

"You? You're having sex with muggles?" Hermione laughed at the irony.

"Inferior as they may be, that's not to say they don't have certain uses. Of course, after the trysts, I have to obliviate them."

"Wait," Hermione exclaimed as disgust took over her features. "You're not raping muggles, are you?"

"You insolent girl, of course I'm not raping them, as if I'd need to. No, they are very aware and very willing, I just have no desire for them to remember who I am afterward. I told you, I do not leave anything to chance."

"That's rather perverse, don't you think?" Lucius simply raised an eyebrow in response. "So what does that have to do with me?"

"I have a proposition for you," He said slowly while studying her body language. "It seems I have grown tired of muggles and altering their memories is such a bother. I'm proposing a more sustained arrangement with you." Hermione didn't speak for a few minutes and Lucius did not interrupt her thoughts. He still had a look of appraisal wearing on his features.

"Frankly, why aren't you just shagging your wife?" Hermione asked.

"I am, but Narcissa is...very...conventional. That's not something she intends to change and as long she doesn't hear about my lovers, she doesn't care that I have them. What matters to her is that I don't tarnish the family name."

"Why me? And what makes you think I'd agree to something so ludicrous?"

"Well, you're as close to a muggle one can get without actually bedding one, and as you don muggle clothes, it's rather befitting, don't you agree?" The corners of Malfoy's mouth curved up very slightly in what Hermione could only assume was his version of a smile. "As for why I thought you would agree, that requires a bit more explanation. It hasn't been much of a secret that you and Weasley were on the rocks; you're much better at disguising it than he is, however, word spreads in the ministry. With your intelligence and liberal views, I assumed you may be open to...less conventional experiences."

"So my being intelligent makes you think I'd be an adulterer like you?" Hermione asked incredulously, rising from her chair. Lucius, who had easily stood and closed the few feet between them, caught her chin between his forefinger and thumb and stared down at her with narrow eyes.

"I don't care much for semantics, Miss Granger. I also don't respond well to no, so call it whatever you wish that makes it more palatable. Please ruminate on that." Lucius roughly released her.

"It'll be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you, Lucius Malfoy." Hermione headed for the door feeling affronted and angry. She grabbed her jacket, turned the door handle, and heard Malfoy's amused voice before she could exit.

"You'll be back, Miss Granger. If you weren't considering the idea, you would've left as soon as I broached the topic. Better yet, you would've never even came here tonight."

Hermione slammed the door and hurried out of the Three Broomsticks. With the crowded warmth of the pub, she had forgotten how cold it was outside. The wind on her cheeks felt like she was repeatedly being slapped as she cursed the unrelenting winter they were having. Luckily, she was still levelheaded enough to take a few deep breaths before apparating home lest she splinch herself. Back in her flat, she lit a fire in the sitting room. She kicked off her heels and shrugged off her jacket, appreciating the warmth of the fire. Laying down on the sofa, she murmured, "Accio beer." One of her muggle drinks floated toward her from the kitchen as she pulled her bag from Honeydukes out of her purse. Soon, with beer and chocolate in hand, she found herself thinking about her evening with the ex-Death Eater. It was only half past eight though her time with Malfoy had felt like hours. She was feeling very ambivalent about her situation, knowing full well what the right to thing to do was and how she should be feeling, yet there was a tiny piece of herself that wished she would've stayed with Malfoy. That part sickened her.

Two beers and three Chocolate Cauldrons later, Hermione decided it was probably in her best interest to get some sleep. Just as she began heading toward her bedroom, a familiar crack drew her attention back to the sitting room. There before her stood her husband, holding a duffel bag, with an unusually determined expression.

"Hey, 'Mione. I guess Harry's talked some sense into me, getting me to come home." She wasn't sure how it happened, but moments later the bag had been dropped on the floor and Hermione found herself in Ron's arms. Her hands had woven themselves into his hair while her mouth explored his. They were in the bedroom before Ron broke the kiss. "Are you sure? I mean, I know...just are you sure?"

In response, Hermione slowly unbuttoned her blouse and slid down her skirt wearing a slight smirk on her lips. Apparently, that was all the encouragement Ron needed before stripping off his own clothing. He smelled of butterbeer and trees and Hermione momentarily mused that Harry had likely defeated him in quidditch in some boyish bet to hasten his return home. Still, she savoured the familiarity of the scents, his body, and the hands exploring hers. Ron felt like home.

As they lay in the bed afterward, Hermione's face resting on Ron's chest, she could tell he wanted to discuss something. She was grateful when he thought the better of it and soon slipped into deep, unhurried breaths. Hermione's mind on the other hand took longer to shut down. Lucius Malfoy was still pervading her thoughts. Though they hadn't had sex in months, not since before Lorna, sleeping with Ron still felt ordinary and routine. It wasn't awful, it wasn't even bad per se...and as Hermione searched for the right word, Lucius' description of Narcissa came back to her. Sex with Ron felt too conventional. She sighed into her husband's chest, trying to dismiss the unbidden thoughts, but she couldn't help wondering if maybe intimacy with Malfoy might make her feel more alive than it did with Ron. She then cursed herself and eventually dozed into an uneasy slumber.

* * *

The most HG/LM interaction to date, I hope it felt somewhat believable. I really just want there to be a build up to anything that happens between those two. I mean they're both married, I just don't envision Hermione as the super adulteress type who takes her knickers off for every Tom, Dick, and Harry, but...well, I suppose we'll see next time! Cheers.


	4. Chapter 4

Warded communities had become in vogue towards the end of the Second Wizarding War. They were comparable to muggle gated communities, creating an illusion of heightened safety, where certain spells were cast over a large group of dwellings. These spells included everything from secret-keeper wards and anti-jinxes to unbreakable charms cast on houses and, much to Hermione's displeasure, almost always included anti-apparition spells. It was due to the aforementioned magic that Hermione Granger and Lucius Malfoy were walking down the same path rather late one spring evening in Bristol.

In the past two months, Hermione had avoided anything other than work-related pleasantries with the elder Malfoy who had been visiting her boss with increasing frequency. Tonight, Rosier had extended dinner invitations to her and Ron, who happened to be away in Bulgaria on business. Coincidentally, Lucius had arrived at dinner stag as well, claiming Narcissa had taken ill with a mild cold, but insisted he make an appearance. The night had gone as well as Hermione could have expected with her making idle chit-chat with Mrs. Rosier and avoiding Malfoy's lingering gaze.

"I assume you enjoyed yourself amongst true wizards this evening?" Lucius asked without looking at her. He was in his usual immaculately pressed black robes and rubbing his thumb against the silver snake atop his cane as he strolled along the lane.

"You've really got to become more subtle at taking shots at my bloodline, Mr. Malfoy," said Hermione. "But I am quite fond of Damien and Eleanor, less fond of their carelessness in purchasing Floo powder."

"I'm surprised," Malfoy said with a sideways glance. "Don't you muggles like this sort of thing? Hiking and such?"

"If you knew anything about muggles, you'd notice they tend to conduct outdoor activities in warmer weather and preferably in the sunshine."

"And yet I find the night endlessly more fascinating. So tell me, have you given any more thought to my proposition?"

Hermione knew the topic was bound to come up sometime during this walk. Truth be told, she had been considering his offer, though usually only after indulging in a drink or two. Since his return from Harry's, sex with Ron had been infrequent and unsatisfying. She was beginning to think that while she still loved Ron, maybe she didn't feel the same desire for him anymore, for as guilty as it made her feel, being with him didn't excite her. Lucius, on the other hand, had an odd sort of intrigue about him, as if he were the forbidden fruit. The more she saw him around the ministry, the more she began to study him. Surely she would have found his refined features handsome a long time ago if she wasn't distracted by his servitude of Lord Voldemort. As the new and slightly improved Malfoy had a different allegiance, she had begun to accept her superficial attraction of him which seemed to grow each day she saw his aristocratic face. Alas, she still wasn't ready to forfeit her marriage, nor did she wish to betray Ron by being unfaithful.

"I already gave you my answer," Hermione replied stiffly, Lucius just smirked.

"Indeed you did. See, your mouth says one thing, but what, with how long it took you to utter one short sentence, I think you must be seriously considering my proposal." Very suddenly, Lucius grabbed her arm and Hermione felt as though her entire body were being compressed by invisible bands. The world around her blurred and smeared before coming to an abrupt halt before a property she had never planned to see again.

"What the fuck, Malfoy!" Hermione shouted, less as a question and more as a verbal assault. "Side-along apparition! Really? And you bring me here of all bloody places?" Momentarily forgetting she was a witch, Hermione made to shove the older man, who, taken by surprise by her sudden violence, stumbled back a few paces.

"Miss Granger, you were so distracted by your thoughts of me that you didn't even detect the change in magic once we passed the boundaries of the wards." Hermione scowled.

"And that gives you full reign to disapparate people whenever you want, does it?" Hermione considered hitting the wizard before her again, but thought the better of it. "What exactly do you think your wife will say when she sees me on the lawn of her house?" Hermione warily eyed the grounds as the words left her mouth. They were perfectly pruned and stately leading up to the manor, which showed no evidence of anything that had happened there a few years before.

"I've noticed for all your talk, you still have not left," Malfoy offered with an arrogant smirk. "If it concerns you, Narcissa was never planning to attend tonight's dinner. She's gone to visit Draco in Sweden. He's been travelling a few months and seems to have taken a liking to Gothenburg." Hermione, feeling a bit overwhelmed and unsure of what to say next decided glaring was the best option. Lucius ignored her and began the short remaining journey up the drive. "Are you coming, witch?" Hermione, against every iota of common sense she had, felt compelled to join the man. She took a deep breath to steady herself, after all, she was on his turf now.

Once through the threshold, Hermione's mouth almost dropped open. As she had blocked many things out from the war, she had forgotten the extent of lavishness that was Malfoy Manor. From the marble floors and imported rugs to the ornate fireplaces and sheer size of the house, everything was extravagant. Hermione took another steadying breath as she followed Malfoy into a room she had never been in previously, the parlour. Lucius gestured Hermione toward a Victorian sofa, where she graciously took a seat, mind spinning from both the wealth surrounding her and the insanity of her decisions. Immediately after Lucius took his seat beside the witch, a house elf appeared in the room, bowing very lowly to the wizard. Lucius eyed her briefly before turning to the elf.

"I think the Sauvignon Blanc will do." The elf nodded and bowed before disappearing. "I really do like them much better when they're quiet," Lucius mused.

"I assume you've heard about the legislation that would require house elves to be paid fair wages and accrue time off?" Hermione asked. "Oh, why thank you," She said as the elf had just reappeared with two glasses of white wine and the bottle on ice. The elf bowed yet again.

"You're dismissed." With a crack, the elf vanished. "Yes, I have heard of that ridiculous bill. I'll also marry a muggle before it's passed if I have anything to do with it. Oh, it's a good to be a Malfoy." Hermione gave him a scathing look, knowing full well his money could probably influence enough people to kill the bill, but chose to say nothing. Instead, she sat enjoying her glass of wine.

"You know, I don't really ever drink this."

"I'm aware," He replied as he sipped his wine. "You appear to be trying to survive off firewhiskey and muggle beer alone. You know that's really an unhealthy habit, I hear muggle libations are terrible for your liver."

"Yeah, me and that organ aren't exactly on speaking terms."

"I see," said Lucius as he took a sip of his wine before setting down his glass. "On to more serious business. I suggest that we have a trial run."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not interested in being your friend, Miss Granger," He said. "You appeal to very particular interests of mine and that is all." Lucius grabbed Hermione's hand placed it against the crotch of his trousers. She could feel the heat radiating off his manhood as it stirred before she snatched her digits back.

"What the fuck, Malfoy?" She yelled, suddenly on her feet.

"Oh, give it a rest, girl. You think by now I can't tell when a woman wants me? Why don't you just stop worrying about being right or good or whatever the hell you're so preoccupied with and open yourself up to pleasure you can't even imagine?"

"Okay." The word fell from Hermione's lips without thought.

"Okay? As persuasive as I am, I know you are not so easily convinced typically." He eyed her critically for a moment. "Tell me, do you want me?"

"Yes." Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth, unsure where the word had come from. Lucius smirked and relaxed further back into the couch.

"Excellent," He murmured. "It appears to be working."

"What appears to be working exactly?" Hermione asked, afraid of her traitorous mouth.

"I suppose it's in the risk you take when accepting drinks from strangers...or old enemies." He smiled wryly. "I slipped a potion quite similar to Veritaserum into your wine. I was tired of playing games and this potion has the added effect of you following my commands."

"Why can't I move?" She demanded, for as much as her mind was telling her body to get out as fast as possible, her body paid no mind.

"You can, but under the influence of this particular magic, your body will only act voluntarily in accordance with your true desires. Clearly, you don't truly desire to move at the moment. Now enough with the mundane questions, mudblood. Have you considered my offer?"

"Yes." Hermione again covered her mouth with her hand as if to halt the words coming out.

"You wish to proceed?" He inquired, leaning forward ever so slightly. Hermione nodded. "Let me see your body then," Lucius spoke as he reclined back, fingers elegantly steepled across his chest. "All of it, Miss Granger."

"N-no."

"Let me clarify: that was an order, not a request."

Slowly, Hermione began to fumble with the buttons on her blouse, eventually letting the fabric slip off her shoulders.

"Not the heels," Malfoy interrupted as she reached for her shoes. Hermione closed her eyes and instead reached for her skirt, slowly unzipping it and allowing the fabric to fall to the floor. She paused briefly before proceeding to her bra. "That's enough," The older wizard called as she reached for the straps. She glared at him with defiant eyes as he rose from his seat and began leisurely circling her. "Such harsh looks are quite unnecessary. I wouldn't be wasting my time if I doubted you yearn for what I want." He appraised her body, clad only in emerald green lingerie and black stilettos, stopping behind her to admire her derrière. "Interesting colour choice for a Gryffindor," He murmured into her ear as he ran a finger down one of her bra straps.

Hermione shivered at Lucius' proximity. He ran a hand along her right hip while the fingers of his left danced down her upper arm. "Do you fantasize about me, Miss Granger?" He watched over her shoulder as she nodded in the affirmative. "Interesting..." He removed his hands and walked around to her front, staring down at her with steely eyes. "Your husband, Miss Granger, you love him?"

"Yes," Hermione spoke proudly, staring right back at him.

"Yet you desire me? You desire a Malfoy who views your blood heritage as little better than a muggle? You desire a former Death Eater?" The witch before him remained mute, but the potion compelled her to nod again in the affirmative. "Perfect." He handed the glass holding the remainder of his wine to the brunette before him. "Drink that. It has vervain in it. Very useful in neutralizing the effect of many potions."

"You just tricked me by spiking my drink with a truth serum, why in the bloody hell should I trust you?"

"Because you wouldn't be here if you didn't." Lucius watched with mild interest as she begrudgingly accepted his drink, sniffing it as if searching for some foul play. "Honestly, you've just seen me drink it, it's clearly not going to kill you. Draco used to tell me how clever you were, but it seems he was rather mistaken." Hermione took a sip while eyeing the wizard apprehensively. Lucius' wine tasted just as delicious as hers had, except with a slight cooling finish that seemed to clear her mind. Immediately Hermione began reaching for her clothes.

"You bloody fucking prick, I'll hex you into oblivion."

"Lovely language, Miss Granger. Well, this evening has been quite amusing, but I'll be turning in now. I'm sure you know the way out?" With one last smug look, Malfoy senior left the parlour where Hermione remained buttoning her blouse with unsteady fingers.

As soon as she was remotely decent, she rushed out of the manor and apparated home, her emotions a barely containable amalgamation of rage, lust, guilt, and confusion. She was grateful for her empty flat where she was wasn't forced to keep up pretences for Ron. She occupied her mind by preparing for bed in an entirely muggle fashion: removing her makeup, showering, brushing her teeth, and slipping into her nightwear managed to consume an hour of her time before she was wrapped in her bed forced to consider what had transpired between her and Malfoy. Her smoldering anger was still lingering which crossed out sleep as a possibility

How could she be so blatantly foolish? Why hadn't she left when she had the chance? What possessed her, inside Malfor Manor, to accept a drink proffered by the patriarch of the house with no witness aside from the resident house elf who's bound to keep the family secrets? Hermione had prided herself on being both a clever and cautious witch, yet her actions of the evening reflected neither of those attributes. Then there was the matter of the man himself. She fiercely wanted to unabashedly loathe him, but found it somewhat difficult. His self-assurance was quite the attractive quality to her even if he erred on the side of arrogance and that's not to say anything about his looks which were rather disarming. She was furious that he had tricked her, but at the same time, he hadn't really harmed anything about her other than her pride. She was even more furious at herself, for when he had placed her hand on his crotch, she very much wanted the man before her in the most intimate of ways.

She rolled over in bed, finding that Crookshanks had crawled into Ron's usual spot where he lay curled up, purring lightly. She considered Ron; a couple hours ago she was glad he was out of the country so she could be alone in their flat, though she now wished he was by her side to aid in abating her unwanted thoughts. She desperately wished to love him as she previously had in her youth. Between the war and their loss, Hermione had felt she had lived far too much for twenty-three short years. She wanted to be carefree and so passionate about her husband, about all the prospects their future held, not sleeping alone in his absence and entertaining fantasies about her former classmate's wedded father.

After her encounter with one Lucius Malfoy, the relationship between Hermione and Ron declined from bad to worse. Upon her husband's arrival from Bulgaria, she thought she would feel relief, but instead felt wrought with guilt. She didn't want him to touch her, yet she couldn't explain to him that the reason was because she felt dirty after being touched by another man. Three weeks of work had gone by and Hermione was feeling ambivalent about the lack of appearances by a certain blond aristocrat. Hermione had last seen him during her unplanned visit to Malfoy Manor. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to kiss him or kill him, but felt confident seeing him would help her sort it out.

On Tuesday morning, a different blond strolled into the office. Dressed in all black, Draco Malfoy looked particularly pale as he sneered in Hermione's direction.

"They still employ mudbloods here?" He asked, eyeing the office with reproach.

"Relax, Malfoy, none are going to pop out of a cupboard and attack. Aren't you supposed to be in Sweden anyway?" He turned to stare at her.

"And who, pray tell, told you that, Granger?" Hermione's mind quickly returned to her conversations with the elder Malfoy before she reeled it back in. Draco took her silence with indifference. "I suppose it's not important. Is my cousin in?"

"No, he's at brunch with the head of Magical Law Enforcement. Can't say how long they'll be, care to leave a message?"

"I would send an owl, but I suppose it is your job and I'm already here." Hermione rolled her eyes at this. "Let him know father expects him for dinner again this evening."

"Again?"

"Not that it is any of your business, but yes, again. As I have other matters to attend to, all of which are more important than banal conversation with a mudblood, I'll be on my way. See to it Damien gets my message."

After Draco had left, Hermione considered his message. Apparently the frequency of communication between her boss and Lucius hadn't changed, just the venue. This puzzled her; had Malfoy suddenly changed preference or was he deliberately avoiding her? She knew enough about Malfoys to know they never gave up quite this easily. By the end of the work day, between scheduling appointments and filling out reports, she had convinced herself maybe Malfoy had simply found something or someone else to occupy his attentions. Hermione had just finished packing her things when one of the inner office memos, the usual charmed paper airplane, flew onto her desk. As she read the message, her breath caught.

"I'm still waiting and I can be an incredibly patient man, but I will have my way."

The paged ended in a familiarly inscribed "L.M." Hermione briefly lost track of the time as she stared at the elegant penmanship and the underlying threat in the author's words. A sudden knock on the door frame jarred her back to reality.

"'Mione, are you ready? Harry's just invited us over for dinner and I thought I'd try to catch you before you apparated home." Ron was trying his best to appear carefree as he smiled at her.

"Absolutely," She replied, quickly tucking the note into her bag as she threw it over her shoulder. She kissed Ron on the cheek and reached for her husband's hand, taking him by surprise at the sudden affection. "Let's go."

* * *

Hope that wasn't too bad. I felt weird referencing vervain since I'm not writing about The Vampire Diaries, but it is mentioned in the Harry Potter wiki (my savior for accuracy), so there's that. I also apologize for the wait, it took a bit longer for me to get inspired this go around and I've also noticed each of my chapters have increased in length. Anyway, so there you have it, your first glimpse of some HG/LM...I don't know if one could really call it intimacy, but you get the idea. My semester starts on Monday so I may be a bit busier and writing a bit less frequently, but I have no intentions of abandoning the story. Cheers.


	5. Chapter 5

"Ginny, you really outdid yourself tonight," Hermione said as she watched her onyx knight battle an ivory pawn. "Dinner was lovely."

"Thanks," she replied as she moved her rook forward. "Harry doesn't really care either way with entertaining close friends, but mum insists that Weasley women be exceptional hostesses." She glanced at Hermione then back to the chessboard before her. "So who is it?" Hermione retracted the hand reaching for her pawn.

"Pardon?"

Ginny clarified, "Who's caught your eye other than my brother?"

"I'm certain I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, bollocks, Hermione." Ginny was now staring directly at the other witch in the room. "You're trying too hard, clearly you're compensating for something."

"I...we're just going through a rough patch. We're working on things." Hermione broke Ginny's gaze and returned her attention to her chess piece, inching forward her own pawn.

"Let me be frank, Hermione. I've always liked you a lot as you well know, a bit like a sister really before you two even wed, hence why I am telling you this. Your marriage with my brother is dead and as much as I'd like nothing more than the pair of you to stay together and be wonderfully in love, I simply don't see that happening. You two always come off as just friends and with all that's happened with the baby, I'd say it's a stretch even calling you that anymore. You both deserve to be happy, especially with all you've gone through, even if that means being happy apart." Hermione looked back at Ginny who appeared thoroughly nonjudgmental of her. She considered the redhead's words a few moments before she conceded.

"You know, Ginny, I don't think anyone gives you enough credit for how clever you are."

"I know."

The pair continued their game of wizard's chess until the boys came back, broomsticks and quaffle in hand, arguing over who was a better flier. Ginny quieted the both of them with two pints of Butterbeer before declaring she was a much more exceptional flier than either of them. The witches joined them with frothy drinks of their own, indulging in light conversation. Hermione studied the lot of them: Ron seemed to be more relaxed being in company other than her own while Harry and Ginny were plainly comfortable with each other, a virtually tangible connection between the couple. She knew her and Ron had never had that sort of magnetism to one another, but resigned herself to believing that plenty of couples loved each other without experiencing the bond Ginny and Harry had.

But therein lay the problem. There was no doubt in her mind that she loved Ronald - she always had and she always would, but the longer they were together, the more obvious it was that no matter how much she desired to be, she was not in love with Ron and may never have been. The question she now battled with was whether that changed anything. Growing up, her mother would tell her the smart woman chooses the one who loves her more, and Hermione had watched that in her mother's own marriage to her father. Hermione thus far was not finding the choice very gratifying, but it was definitely safe.

"Hermione!" Harry's voice sharply caught her attention and she suddenly realized everyone at the table was staring at her.

"Sorry, what?"

"You haven't said a word for ten minutes," Harry observed. "You feeling alright?"

"Oh yes, I'm fine."

"D'you want a glass of water or something?" Ron asked, his expression a blend of concern and distinct annoyance.

"No, I'm just a bit fatigued, work's been tiring." She looked at the faces staring back at her with increasing discomfort. "I think I'll just head home."

"Do you want me to come with you, 'Mione?" She shook her head in response to her husband.

"No, enjoy yourself. I'll be there when you get back."

Hermione hugged two of her oldest friends goodbye and brushed a kiss on her husband's cheek before apparating back to her flat. Perched on her window sill waiting was a very dark owl with an oddly supercilious glint in its yellow eyes.

"And just who do you belong to?" She asked as she reached for the package it held in its beak. She noticed the parcel was rather heavy, providing an explanation for the hostile look the owl gave her before taking flight. She sat down on the sofa and analyzed the parcel for a moment. It was meticulously wrapped in pearlescent paper with an intricately knotted black ribbon. After slipping off the string and delicately unwrapping the package, Hermione gasped at what she saw.

Inside was a leather bound first edition of _Hogwarts, A History_ dating back to the early sixteenth century. As she appraised the immaculate preservation of the book, a note fluttered to the floor. She was not at all surprised to recognize the penmanship or initials printed on it.

"Consider my offer, I have much to give. -LM"

Hermione knew the book likely set Malfoy back a few thousand galleons, and mulled over whether or not to keep it, but ultimately decided against it. Regardless of how beautiful it was, she most certainly did not want to be indebted to one Lucius Malfoy, particularly on that grand a scale. She quickly wrapped the book back in its paper, hoping to avoid any questions from Ron, then scribbled her own note.

"Bribery, Malfoy? Do not mistake me as a harlot."

She used the ribbon to attach her response and with a little wandwork lightened the parcel before tying it to Pigwidgeon's leg.

"Off you go then," She murmured as she placed the arm holding Pig out the window. She watched him fly until he became a tiny speck against the night sky before getting ready for bed. Unsurprisingly, Ron was not yet home by the time she fell asleep. As her mind rested, she fleetingly considered what lying next to Lucius Malfoy instead of in an empty bed would be like.

Hermione awoke early the next morning to excessive snoring on Ron's part. By the time she finished showering and was dressed for work, Ron was still drooling on his pillow. When she went to make her morning tea, she found Pigwidgeon had returned, looking a little worse for wear from the lengthy journey. On the desk near his perch lay a letter.

"That wasn't bribery, that was a bonus, and just the beginning. How about we discuss it over drinks in Hogsmeade? I'll be expecting you at seven. -LM"

So cocky. He was so damn cocky. Hermione groaned and pocketed the parchment before her husband could see it, not desiring inquiries from him about her communication with a Malfoy. She was just about to apparate to the ministry when Ron stumbled into the living room looking especially dishevelled.

"Morning," He mumbled on his way to the kitchen.

"Well, you're in a right state," She said as she followed him into the kitchen, spurred by curiosity about his whereabouts all night. She leaned ideally against the doorway watching him rummage through their pantry.

"Do we have any Pepperup Potion?" He asked, his head halfway in the cupboard.

"No, we're out, you took the last bit during the winter," She replied. "Besides, it's really only for colds, not hangovers."

"Who says I'm hungover?" Ron asked, a bit more inimical than what was strictly necessary for seven in the morning.

"Oh, give it a rest, Ronald. I know a hungover man when I see him. Why don't you try coffee?" Ron had a very irate look when he turned back to face his wife.

"I don't know, maybe 'cause I'm not a muggle? And you know, I'm really getting tired of this superior attitude you've got lately."

"I'm not acting superior, but I'm also not acting like a thoughtless teenager coming home at all hours of the night. You're a married man, Ronald, and generally speaking, married men don't just come home drunk whenever they feel like."

"They do when they constantly have to treat their wife as if she'll either break or go ballistic. Sometimes, I really just can't be around you. I just need to breathe."

"Oh, don't be such a melodramatic twat," Hermione spat. "It's not like you've been making some grand effort in our relationship so you don't just get to go 'round blaming me for why you don't come home. You owe me more than that."

"For fuck's sake, I don't owe you anything!" Ron shouted at her. "All I've fucking done the better part of a year is give and try to make things easier for you. You, on the other hand, have chosen to, more or less, isolate yourself from everyone we know then blame me every time something goes wrong. So yeah, I bloody well may go for a pint with my mates from work or Harry or Luna or-"

"Wait, you're still seeing Luna?" Hermione's inquiry had an eerie calmness about it that was thinly masking her lividity.

"Merlin, now we're on this again? We all went to school together, Hermione! We fought in a war together!"

"Yes, but those circumstances don't invalidate your indiscretion."

"Indiscretion? Oh, Merlin, it was one kiss! We weren't even married yet and you said you'd forgiven me, you can't keep dredging up the past."

"I did forgive you," The witch replied. "When I thought you were no longer seeing her. Physically, it may have only been one kiss, but we both know there was more to it than that." Ron simply sighed.

"Look, Hermione, I feel like anything I eat is going to come back out the way it went in and my head feels like it's been kicked by a centaur, so can we argue about every issue we've ever had another day?"

"I assume that means you're not going to work today?"

"What do you bloody think? Care to have a row about that, too?" Ron growled.

"Fine, whatever, but if you're going to be a lush, you better learn how to drink and function the next morning."

Hermione turned on her heel and walked back into their living room where she disapparated from the flat. Once at the Ministry, she realized her row with Ron had her running ten minutes overdue. As Hermione was never late, this left her further upset. She felt like it was one of those days where she never should've crawled out of bed.

"Ah, Ms. Granger, nice of you to join me this morning." Hermione's boss was smiling genially as he chastised her. He was leaning against her desk as she stumbled into the office half out of breath from her marathon through the ministry.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Rosier, this morning has just been.." She trailed off, shaking her head and forcing herself to breathe. "It's just been a rough morning, I apologize."

"Oh, it is quite alright, my dear. This is maybe the second time you've been tardy in four years? Well, never mind that. I have an assignment for you. I need you to visit America next week. We've had some issues revamping our international potions trade agreements since the division of the American Wizarding Faction and the Western Patriot Alliance of Magic. The AWF say they've issued an embargo against the WPAM in order to force reconciliation talks, but it means both sides are depriving the other of key ingredients for potion making. Of course we could obtain individual ingredients from both parties, but as you know, many potions require very particular environments to brew, the chaparral area of California for example. I've got my hands full with the French, but I just need you to go for a few days and report back on progress across the pond."

"I see, so I just need to talk to them then?" Hermione asked while taking out a quill and some parchment.

"Essentially, yes, I do not believe they'll request much of you. Unfortunately, I am not confident they've been entirely forthcoming lately. I just don't believe they're disclosing the full extent of things in their owls. You'll be assigned to the AWF's headquarters in New York City while Aimee will be at the WPAM headquarters in Los Angeles conducting similar work. Before you go, I need you to do some research into the American Parliamentary For Magic and see what's caused them to divide as they have. It's really in our best interest for the two groups to reform."

"Yes, sir. I'll begin right away."

"Thank you, Ms. Granger."

Hermione briefly watched her boss retreat to his office before settling into her own desk. She took note of her assignment, jotted down what she already knew of the American Parliamentary For Magic, America's former version of the Ministry of Magic, then checked the appointment book. She was thankful Rosier had a clear day so she could conduct her research while on the clock. She made her way to the Ministry's library, taking a lift and walking down several corridors, and had almost reached her destination when she ran into a brunette she had little desire to see at the moment.

"Hermione."

"Harry." She gave him the once over; he didn't look nearly as awful as her husband had when she had left the flat.

"Sorry about last night, I shouldn't have kept him out so late."

"Exactly when did you two conclude your shenanigans?" Harry seemed to eye her carefully before he responded.

"I don't know, a bit past midnight I reckon." Hermione was certain Ron wasn't home before two, when she had woken to use the loo, but chose not to voice her thoughts.

"I see, well, I have work to attend to. I'll see you later, yeah?" Hermione began walking past him, but he grabbed her wrist to stop her.

"Hold on just a minute!" Harry pestered. "What's going on with you, Hermione?"

"Let go off me, Harry."

"I will once you tell me what's wrong," The wizard persisted. Hermione glared at him, but he only returned the look and maintained his grip on her.

"Are you covering for him?"

"Excuse me?" Harry released her wrist, but she didn't move.

"Are you covering for him?" She repeated. "Him and Luna." Harry stared at the witch before him with hard eyes a few moments without response.

"That's a very serious accusation, Hermione," Harry eventually murmured.

"Well, he very seriously did not arrive at home anywhere near midnight last night and he let slip this morning how he still sees her."

"Come on, they're just friends, don't you think you're being a bit rash jumping to conclusions?"

"Honestly, I don't know what to think with him anymore," She replied, running a hand through her hair in exasperation. "Harry, I just need you to not make me feel like the bad guy right now."

"Of course not, Hermione, you know that isn't my intention."

"Well, I really must be getting back to work."

Hermione bid Harry farewell and continued her trek to the Ministry's library. Once she arrived, she settled into her comfort zone, surrounded by books and periodicals. She filled a table with all the documentation she could find on the American Parliamentary For Magic and the divided children it had created. Very little aside from recent copies of the Daily Prophet mentioned the AWF or WPAM, but she set to work anyway, savouring the respite from her thoughts of the men in her life. A few hours into her work, an interoffice paper aeroplane found her and nose dived onto her parchment of notes.

"Oh Merlin, what now?" The witch whispered aloud, her hands unfolding the enchanted paper.

"My rooms at the Three Broomstick are still reserved. I think a drink there sounds appropriate. -LM"

Hermione reread the note a couple times and sighed. She really did want a drink after work to clear her head and the Three Broomsticks was oft her first choice. Sharing that drink with Lucius Malfoy was not quite as enticing; she knew her body would wish to act on hormone-induced impulses and that her mind would reiterate that there was nothing logical about being in the same room as a Malfoy. Hermione shook the thoughts from her head and refocused on the task at hand. She deposited the note in her bag, checked out some books, then returned to the office.

Four o'clock arrived quickly and Hermione stayed a few minutes later to compensate for her lateness. Upon leaving, she decided on taking the muggle route home. It would take longer, but she used the time weighing the pros and cons of having a drink with a certain pure blood. He was dangerous to her, this she knew, but she was not fearful in a physical sense. He could cost her a lot, though she went back and forth on what exactly she had to lose. When she eventually arrived back at her flat, a note from Ron made her decision a great deal easier.

"Gone out with Luna, be back later."

That was it; no elaboration on their destination, intention, or the time of his return. Hermione couldn't decide if he was being excessively thick or deliberately hurtful, but was leaning toward the latter option. He was no longer even bothering to disguise where he was and she could do nothing about it.

Against better judgement, Hermione found herself waiting at the bar in the Three Broomsticks just before seven. The young witch was nursing a firewhiskey on ice while people watching. The pub wasn't very busy, being that it was a Wednesday, and most of the other patrons were permanent Hogsmeade residents who Hermione recognized by face, but not name. They spoke jovially over their Butterbeers and firewhiskeys and gilly water. Her eyes fell on the door as a tall figure cloaked in black crossed the threshold. Lucius Malfoy's eyes immediately met Hermione's as he made his way toward the bar.

"Miss Granger, I see you've found me irresistible like many others." Hermione rolled her eyes then downed the remainder of her drink. "That kind of day, is it? Very well." Lucius flagged down Madam Rosmerta's fledgling, a young freckly Squib Hermione thought was called Johan, and ordered her another drink. "Blishen's on the rocks for the lady and I'll have the finest red available."

As soon as the barkeep had placed the tumbler down, Hermione threw back the liquid courage. Lucius watched her with an arched eyebrow while Johan placed his wine before him. "Another," He said without taking his eyes off her. Johan refilled her glass rather hesitantly, but clearly didn't find defying a Malfoy a prudent option.

"Just leave the bottle," Hermione dictated, downing another drink. "Lucius, pay the man." Hermione grabbed the bottle off the bar and tottered to the stairs. Lucius placed a few galleons on the bar, leaving his own drink untouched, and followed after her. Once inside his room, Lucius took the bottle from the witch, its contents considerably reduced between the bar and the room.

"Oh, bloody hell, I can't even get a drink now?"

"I think the five or so you've already consumed is quite enough for now."

Lucius merely watched Hermione for awhile. She had clearly changed for him - the neckline of her black dress was a little too low and her hemline a little too high for a day at the Ministry. She had discarded her blazer upon entering the room and was now pacing before the fire in three inch heels. Finally she stopped and faced him.

"I think my husband's going to leave me...or just keep cheating on me," Hermione said, staring at Lucius. "I'm not sure which is worse." He took a few steps toward her so that he was within touching distance.

"So what do you want?"

"I want something effortless. I want to forget."

"What do you want?" Lucius uttered slowly, stressing each syllable.

"Right now?" Lucius said nothing, just gazed at the witch. "Right now, I want you."

She reached up to kiss him, her eyes intent on his fair lips, and he turned away from her. It took a moment for her to comprehend his rejection.

"You're joking." He said nothing as she pulled back from him, but turned his face to look at her. "After all of this, you don't even want me?"

"I'm not going to kiss you. Make no mistake, I am not a romantic. I'm not here to make you feel loved."

"Damn it, Malfoy, just make me feel something!"

The sentence was barely out of her mouth when Lucius' hands were on her dress. Long fingers deftly unzipped the article and slipped it down her hips. He took in the lacy black underwear hugging her curves while her hands struggled with his buttons. Eventually, Lucius muttered a spell and the fabric beneath her fingers disappeared.

"Perhaps if you indulged less in drink, you'd be better at undressing me, mudblood." His words fell on deaf ears, however, as Hermione's eyes took in the sight of a nude Malfoy. His shoulders were broad with lean, unassuming muscle, and in between them resided a well toned chest, but Hermione was mostly focused on his lower half. Lucius was extremely well endowed and clearly feeling lascivious. "Now how about we find a better use for that mouth of yours?"

Normally, Hermione would've hexed Malfoy ten times over for the way he was talking to her, but the sight of Lucius' prominent manhood coupled with her intoxication filled her with desire she didn't want to deny. Her knees gave way under her as she kneeled before him, taking the hard length into her hands, and finally into her mouth. She savoured the feeling of him hard on her tongue as one of her hands encircled the base of his cock. As she sucked and stroked him, she couldn't help glancing up at him through her eyelashes. His own eyes remained shut and his chest rose and fell with deep breaths, but his face was inscrutable. The witch continued her ministrations, taking as much of the wizard as she could into her small mouth, never taking her eyes off him. Eventually they were met with the hard grey eyes characteristic of Malfoy men.

"On the bed. Now."

Hermione did as she was told, cherishing the simplicity of following his commands. She fell back into plush sheets, her eyes trained on the man approaching the bed. His fair hair framed his shoulders perfectly while his exceptionally hard manhood filled the witch with lust.

"Hands and knees," Lucius ordered and again Hermione complied. "Well, it looks like you wanted me after all, Miss Granger." The wizard surveyed her with amusement before crawling onto the mattress. Hermione felt his hands caress her hips while his thigh spread hers further apart. He brought one hand to her sex, inserting one finger quickly followed by another. "Judging by how wet you are, I think you're more than ready. Just say the words."

"I want you." He removed his fingers and Hermione moaned at the loss of contact.

"Oh, I do believe you can do a bit better than that, Miss Granger."

"I want you," She managed again. "I want you to make me forget. I want you to fuck me until I forget."

"Happy to oblige."

Lucius immediately pushed in to the hilt drawing a scream from the witch's lips. Hermione was shocked by the sudden girth filling her, but Lucius gave her no time to adjust, rapidly pulling out just to shove back in. He continued his punishing rhythm, gripping her hips hard to pull her back on him. Hermione was moaning into the pillows, her sounds coarsely laced with slurred profanities.

"I want to hear you, witch," Lucius ground out. "I want to hear my name on your lips."

The pleasure was blinding as he pummelled her and Hermione was barely able to comprehend his words between the pain and pleasure melded in his rough taking of her.

"Fuck, Lucius...so good," She groaned. "Don't stop, don't stop!"

Hermione suddenly found herself flipped onto her back while still impaled on Lucius' throbbing member. He leaned into her, still riding her hard, and Hermione found his eyes so piercing she could barely stand to look in them.

"You will come for me, mudblood, I will make you come." His words were followed by fingers that reached the tiny nub at the apex of her thighs. He was not gentle with her, such was the nature of their coupling, but his skilful strokes quickly brought her walls clenching around him.

"Oh fuck! Lucius!" Hermione let out a line of swearing as her climax coursed through her, her tight walls and coarse language bringing the pure-blood to his orgasm. He let out a guttural groan so erotic Hermione nearly came again. As they descended from their post-coital high, Lucius withdrew from the witch, leaving her with the distinct feeling she was lacking something. Desperate for his closeness, she snuggled against his chest and though he still did not kiss her, he permitted the affectionate gesture. Some twenty minutes passed before Hermione chose to speak.

"I have a proposition," Hermione began, eyeing the wizard before her with determination.

"Oh, really?" Lucius chortled arrogantly. "Humour me then."

"If this is to continue, I'd like you to speak to me like the accomplished witch I am. I'm not the teenager you got to belittle and label mudblood anymore." Lucius seemed to ponder this for a moment.

"And if I should refuse?" He inquired.

"Well, this will be a one off thing then."

"Oh, don't be naïve, we both know you'll return either way, but why not? I'll consider it part of the new Lucius."

"Ah, the reformed Malfoy you claimed did not exist?" Lucius made no response and Hermione remained mute for a few minutes, idly running her finger along the wizard's chest, before making another inquiry. "Why won't you kiss me?"

"I only kiss my wife, Miss Granger. Perhaps you should extend the same courtesy to your husband."

Her husband. Ron. The thought of him was quite sobering, but she quickly pushed it aside. Tonight was a night of forgetting. Disclosing her discretion could wait, she rationalised she may as well enjoy the sin she already committed fully.

"That seems an unusual choice considering your sexual habits."

"Not especially," He replied. She said nothing, knowing he would continue and he did. "A kiss is intimate, it can be...vulnerable."

"And sex is not intimate?"

"No, not necessarily. I can certainly fuck someone, that is not what I would truly term intimacy."

Hermione murmured a soft noise of assent and allowed silence to fall upon them again. The room was filled with the sound of the fire crackling and Lucius' calm, even breathing. He said nothing, but his fingers had found their way entwined in her soft curls. It seemed a bizarrely delicate gesture for a man who played such a major role in some of the worst parts of her life.

"Why do you talk with me?" She began. "What I mean to say is I assumed you would be the type to get dressed and leave as soon as possible."

"Generally speaking, that would be an accurate description," He replied. "However, if this is to be a more sustained arrangement, I don't believe it's quite necessary. Further, I find myself...for lack of a better term, fascinated by you. Regardless, that little document you signed keeps your lips sealed so I may speak quite as freely as I desire."

She chose to ignore the latter part of his sentiment, choosing to address the so-called arrangement instead. "I don't know if I can do this again." He breathed out a sigh - a heavy, solemn noise.

"It does get easier, Miss Granger, but perhaps it shouldn't...perhaps you don't want it to."

The pair stayed quiet for quite awhile, Lucius soothing the witch as he continued playing with her hair while she considered his words.

"Lucius?" She whispered as sleep began to take hold of her.

"Yes?" He drawled into her ear.

"Will you stay with me tonight? Are you going to be here when I wake?"

"Is that what you desire?"

"Yes. I don't want to be alone, but I'm not ready to go back."

"So it shall be, Miss Granger."

The witch snuggled closer to the last wizard on earth she ever expected. He was being uncharacteristically gentle, yet she chose to simply accept it. Maybe it was her whiskey lowered inhibitions, maybe she was losing her mind, but whatever it was, she found that night beside him assuaged the constant ache in her chest. Lying in bed next to Lucius Malfoy, she could breathe, and shortly thereafter, she drifted to sleep.

* * *

Sorry sorry sorry! This chapter was in the works for quite a while. Between work, classes, and pretending to speak Spanish to pass exams, I've been super busy/tired (I actually used the word "maliceful" in place of "malicious" yesterday when conversing with a professor, hello burnout!) and coincidentally this is my longest chapter to date ergo it took longer. I've also been furnishing the beginning of two other stories which may see light of day before the next chapter of this, hence the delay. Oh inspiration, you spiteful mistress. Anyway, hope you all enjoyed it and thanks again for the reviews! Cheers.


	6. Chapter 6

The morning after, Hermione awoke parched with a dull throbbing pain behind her eyes spreading to her temples. She kept her eyes shut while her mind reeled. She had cheated on her husband, an act so far out of character, one which she knew she could never completely forgive herself for and could barely bring herself to acknowledge. As her eyes inched open, they were met with very faint morning light seeping through the gap between the drapes. The fire had extinguished itself and she reckoned it must have been five or thereabout. Then her eyes drifted to the wizard she had sinned with; she sat up ever so slightly to appraise him better. Asleep he appeared strangely vulnerable without the usual tension tightening his face and she decided against leaving her spot where her head lay on his shoulder and his arm draped over her. The dichotomy of the emotions she felt made her head spin further yet.

What was she to do? She had, reasonably, been upset by Ron's visit with Luna. The witch had apologized profusely to her when things had "gotten out of hand" as she carelessly put it, but irregardless of whether she had forgiven her then-fiancé, she neither forgave nor respected the blonde witch ever again despite civil pretences. Luna's current sneaking around with her husband did nothing to remedy that. Still, they had never slept together as far as she knew, yet here she lay in bed with a married man; it now felt hypocritical for her to be so sanctimonious. She could find no way to justify her actions; she wished to deem herself as being too intoxicated the night previous, but she had developed a rather remarkable alcohol tolerance and knew nothing had been forced upon her. Even if their acts had been solely at Lucius' discretion, she had made the choice to meet him, and after what happened during their last encounter, clearly she knew what was likely to occur. The blame simply could not be placed on him.

Hermione slowly slipped out of the bed and began collecting her clothing. Her mind was divided between the mundane and the overwhelming: how much time did she have to ready herself for work and how would she explain her absence to Ron? How could she possibly voice her affair to him and how would he react to news of her trip to America?

"You won't be able to tell him." Hermione jumped at the sound of Lucius' cool voice from behind her. She had been so entangled in her own thoughts she failed to hear him rising from bed as she slipped her dress on. She turned to find him standing before her clad in only boxer briefs and felt her breath hitch at the sight.

"Pardon?" The witch managed in reply, slowly regaining her senses.

"Your husband, Miss Granger, clearly he's the only concerned party. You'll be able to manage that you slept with someone else, but you won't be able to say with whom or where you were. That document essentially prevents you from disclosing any identifying details. You'd be making it worse, not better."

"What would you have me do then?"

"Frankly, I do not care, I was simply informing you of what I know from experience. The husband always wants to know more which is quite the problem when you're spellbound to keep your lips shut."

Hermione sighed as she bent over to put on her shoes.

"You were excellent last night," Lucius added, as he charmed on his own attire, which fit impeccably as ever.

"Oh, fuck off," The witch cursed. "I don't know what I was thinking last night."

"I can tell you exactly what you were thinking," He mused as he approached her. She felt his breath hot against her ear as he zipped her dress. "You took a break from your banal married life with your grossly inadequate husband to spend an evening with a Malfoy, and judging by the sounds you made, you rather enjoyed yourself."

Hermione neither refuted nor conceded to Lucius, instead choosing to make her way to the bathroom mirror. Her reflection upset her as she knew it did not reflect the amount of guilt she should surely be experiencing. She splashed some water on her face and attempted to make her hair cooperate then took a few deep breaths to steady herself before exiting the bathroom.

"I have to go now," She murmured to the wizard. He was impassive.

"Yes," He spoke languorously. "I'm sure the Ministry is in dire need of your services. Do not let me stop you, Miss Granger."

Hermione scowled, but said nothing else as she collected her bag and jacket. She took one last look at the haughty wizard before apparating back to London. When Hermione arrived at her flat, she found she had beat her husband home. Feelings of regret she may have had were quickly extinguished by his absence, but as her eyes fell on the clock she realized she had little time to consider his infidelity. She quickly prepared for work, showering and replacing last night's dress with a more dignified outfit. As she slipped on her trousers, she noticed small patches of yellow and purple decorating her hips left by the older wizard's hands. No matter how many times they'd been intimate, Ron had never left love marks on her, but the ones Lucius was responsible for left her feeling oddly satiated.

When Hermione finally arrived at her desk, a few minutes to eight, she found a familiar package on her desk. Her boss rarely arrived exactly at eight and she took the spare minutes to loosen the ribbon and slide off the wrapping. The leather bound book Lucius had gifted her once previous lay before her, still in pristine condition for its age. Hermione took the card that had fallen from the packing.

"I do not consider you a harlot. I have a standing reservation at L'Atelier de Joël Robuchon, I expect you to join me for dinner tomorrow evening. -LM"

Hermione felt rather bemused by this sentiment as it seemed as if Lucius Malfoy was almost being...cordial. Again, she considered the idea of being indebted to him and that he likely had ulterior motives, but she looked at the book, the first she had ever read from the wizarding world, and decided to hell with it, she would keep it. She was also vaguely familiar with the restaurant, which she knew to be a pricey muggle establishment, and was unsure why he was bothering to keep the pretences of dinner beforehand, let alone surrounded by muggles. Before she could further consider his motives further, however, her boss arrived with a very busy agenda.

Between organizing her trip, sorting out Rosier's meetings for the following week, and finishing her normal assignments, Hermione didn't leave the Ministry until an hour after she was scheduled. As she stood in the atrium before one of the fireplaces holding a bit of floo powder, she was overcome by sudden apprehension about facing her husband. She eyed her ring, twirling the heart-shaped diamond around her finger. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the flames and out into her living room.

Ron was sitting on their sofa, leaning over their coffee table as he scribbled on some parchment, but immediately stopped at the sight of his wife. A few minutes passed in silent stalemate, neither party making the first move. Hermione had stared at Ron long enough, though, and headed to their kitchen where she retrieved a libation from their refrigerator. Upon her return, Ron was seated at their dining table and gestured for her to join him. She sighed deeply before taking a seat opposite of him.

"I was..." Ron trailed off before he'd hardly began, Hermione simply raised an eyebrow as she took another sip from her drink. "It was rash, alright?"

"What, pray tell, was rash?" Hermione asked. Ron squirmed under her gaze and she felt herself feeling unjustifiably pious.

"Going to see her is all! Look, Hermione, I know I can see whoever I damn well please, but I've been feeling right guilty about seeing her."

"That's the thing, though. A marriage means you can't just do whatever you bloody feel like with no regard to who you might hurt. What if I went out with a man you knew I had feelings for at one point? Wouldn't be very good, would it?" Ron stayed quiet and Hermione ingested more alcohol. "D'you love her?"

"What," Ron exclaimed, neither affirming or denying. "Merlin, Hermione! What are you even thinking?"

"Yes or no, Ronald? I know I wasn't a good wife after we...after we lost Lorna, but I need to know if you had those feelings for her before we married...or after...everything happened."

"Hermione, I-" Ron sighed.

"Oh, don't bother, you've already answered now," Hermione stated, finishing her beer. "Do you still?" The red head looked up at her across the table, but said nothing. "That's all I need to know. Goodbye, Ronald." As she rose, he was suddenly on his feet.

"That doesn't mean I don't love you! I don't know what I feel for her, but it doesn't matter because you're my wife and you're what matters."

"Am I? Do you actually still love me? Or are we just together because it's easier?"

"Where is all of this coming from, 'Mione? All of a sudden it's like you're begging for a reason to leave." As the words left his mouth, a change registered on his face, his features slowly shifting from outrage to contempt. "Is that it? You want to leave?"

"I don't want us to both be miserable if it's just not going to work." Ron's eyes narrowed.

"Who is he then?"

"Excuse me?" Hermione's forgotten guilt resurfaced rapidly at her husband's accusation, but she abided by Lucius' words and forced a poker face.

"It's been a year since we've lost her, but we kept trying to make things work, get back to how things were, but now all of a sudden you want to call it quits? Who is he?"

"Did you ever think part of the problem was that we've been trying the last year?" Hermione demanded. "Do you really think a marriage is supposed to be this effortful? Where nothing is easy? Nothing at all?"

"Hell if I know, Hermione, can't say I've done this before, but we're married aren't we?"

"But are we happy?"

Hermione didn't wait for his response, fleeing to their bedroom to take up refuge. She spent her evening reliving the previous night with Lucius, the touch of his hands on her, his invigorating scent, his overt arrogance, and she battled with resurgent bouts of guilt over her transgression. She knew of all the wizards she could have slept with, Lucius ranked especially highly in those that would hurt her husband most. What's worse was that she knew that at any other moment in time, she would share his vehement disgust. Yet, as she lay locked in the bedroom she shared with the man she once believed she could love forever, she now felt a physical longing for another that made her sick with herself.

As the evening wore on, Hermione could hear shuffling in the living room, but Ron did not bother with engaging her again and some time around ten, she heard their front door slam with his departure. She was well aware he would be off to see Luna, but dismissed the thought as she took out a quill and piece of parchment. She knew the man she was owling was not much for words and had no desire to be verbose. She knew his last note had not possessed nor truly implied a question, but the letter Pigwidgeon carried to Malfoy Manor bore one word.

"Yes."

* * *

So this one was a bit on the shorter side. I've actually written more, but as I was re-reading this seemed to be a natural break for a chapter. As always, reviews are absolutely lovely, and thank you to the readers who've been kind enough to do so thus far. Cheers.


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione woke very early the next morning. She eyed the bit of parchment from Lucius that had arrived overnight, thick paper etched with rich green ink.

"Eight o'clock. -LM"

His writing appeared hurried by his usual standards, seeming scrunched closer together, but even then his penmanship remained elegant. After eyeing the note a few times over, she quickly rose out of bed and began getting ready for the Ministry, hoping to be gone by the time Ron returned.

Friday came and went in a blur as Hermione tied up the loose ends at work before her trip on Sunday evening. The pace of her work distracted her from the mess that was her relationship with her husband and the insanity of the engagement she had scheduled with Lucius Malfoy that evening. Still, as the clock approached five, she couldn't help the excitement that began fluttering about her chest. She wasn't able to explain it, but she knew the further away from Ron she felt, the more drawn she was to Lucius. What she had determined was that she found his intellect engaging and perhaps that was enough for now.

After two hours of primping, Hermione was finally satisfied with her dress, hair, and make up. The navy garment she wore was conservatively sexy while strands of her hair seemed to frame her face just so, which was made up, but not overdone. For some reason, the better she looked, the more she felt like she was on a level playing field with Malfoy. To her knowledge, her husband had not been home, and to her satisfaction she was able to leave the flat without an interrogation over who she had gussied up for. At eight o'clock sharp Hermione arrived at the restaurant. Dressed in a smart jacket and well-tailored slacks, Lucius sauntered over to meet her looking remarkably like a muggle, albeit an especially affluent one with an affinity for all black ensembles.

"Miss Granger," He drawled, giving her a brief once over. "I see you've yet again have found my invitation irresistible."

"And yet you're so wonderfully talented at being anything but."

"I consider myself talented at a myriad of things, being irresistible is certainly among them. Shall we?" Hermione was surprised when the Malfoy patriarch proffered his arm, but she quickly recovered, placing her hand in the crook at his elbow and following him inside.

The restaurant was certainly more modern than she thought would be to his taste, with bar-like seating allowing a clear view of the chefs at work, but the maître d' seemed to recognize Lucius and quickly showed them to their seats. Before Hermione could open a menu, another waiter appeared to take their order.

"We'll have the 1995 Krug Clos du Mesnil and foie gras to start," Lucius stated, daring the the server to question him. The waiter, dark-haired and in his late twenties, merely nodded before retreating to the kitchen. In quick succession, the sommelier appeared, opening their champagne and pouring their first glasses. Hermione thanked her graciously despite the pangs of jealousy elicited by her shameless staring at Lucius. She watched as the wizard sniffed his wine then took a sip.

"She's interested."

"Yes, she has been for awhile. It is not a rare occurrence for me as I am sure you must be aware." He was not being boastful, just blunt, but it managed to irk Hermione regardless.

"Yet you brought me here anyway."

"A lustful waitress is hardly cause for indignation."

"Do you take all your escorts to dinner?" Hermione asked cynically between sips of the champagne.

He eyed her critically over his own glass before responding, "You're not the first."

"Are there others?"

"Not recently, no."

"Is it because of me?" He scoffed at her question.

"If the vows I swore to my wife don't prevent me from sleeping with whomever I choose, are you really deluded enough to think you do?"

"With your logic, who the hell knows?" He didn't bother to answer so she continued. "Why here? A muggle establishment?"

"Do you think it wise for me to tote you around the middle of Diagon Alley on a Friday night?" He took another sip of his wine. "They also have a very good selection of libations, though that fact may be wasted on you."

"It is a fine glass of champagne," She granted, draining the remainder of her alcohol. Lucius refilled her glass with effervescent liquid and Hermione found herself a bit taken aback by the chivalrousness of the act and its contrast to their conversation. She planned to comment, but was interrupted by the arrival of their foie gras. They ate quietly, Hermione sneaking the occasional glance at the regal man beside her. The finely tailored muggle attire suited him well, as did the haughty expression he wore. When their server returned, Lucius again ordered for the pair of them, but Hermione found she didn't mind.

"Why did you send me that book?"

"You enjoyed it."

"Yes, but that doesn't explain why. Clearly you're not out just to make a little mudblood feel good." The wizard eyed her appraisingly and didn't speak for speak for several moments.

"You find it difficult to receive, Miss Granger." Lucius spoke no more and seemed pleased when their main course arrived with a new wine. Hermione caught him staring at her a few times as they ate, but he did not look away once he had been caught. His eyes were inscrutable; a stormy grey that seemed to disarm her. She quickly shook off the feeling, focusing her thoughts on further conversation.

"You're not very loquacious this evening although you extended the invite," She voiced as she finished her entrée.

"Perhaps you're just particularly garrulous, Miss Granger, but be that as it may, I'll humour you." Lucius smirked as he poured his third glass of wine. "Damien tells me you'll be travelling stateside next week."

"Yes, he's asked me to act as a sort of liaison with the AWF, you know, one of the groups that formed after their parliamentary divided."

"I'm well aware of what the AWF is, Miss Granger."

"I'm surprised you'd be concerned about the political matters of a country with such a large proportion of muggles."

"I'm a powerful man, Miss Granger, and world politics have ripple effects, in both the muggle and wizarding worlds. It would be ill advised to remain ignorant on such matters."

"I see."

"I find now to be an appropriate time to disclose my reasons for this dinner. Damien has asked me to accompany you on your little excursion. As I am one of the major independent financial backers of the ministry, I wasn't surprised by his request until I discovered who he expected I go with." Hermione wanted to believe that the ministry wasn't just in the pocket of rich pure blood families, but Lucius had put quite plainly that they were. She sighed and focused on the other portion of his statement.

"Why not Aimee? She'll be working with the WPAM during the same time frame."

"One of my associates, Emmet Pond, will be accompanying her. He has greater financial ties to the West Coast."

"So this was, in essence, a business meeting?"

"Depending on how you look at it, everything between us is business."

The server returned at that moment, clearing their table and inquiring if they desired dessert. Hermione studied him as he worked, he had a deceptively boyish face and offered her a gentle smile as he took her plate, his eyes lingering on her longer than was strictly necessary. The gold tag on his shirt was engraved with the word Silas.

"For dessert, the 1983 Château d'Yquem and two of le bavarois."

"Absolutely, sir." His eyes darted briefly back to Hermione before he turned to the kitchen.

"What did you order?"

"A very expensive wine."

"And?"

"Dessert. You'll enjoy it, it's a nice twist on an old classic."

He was right. The delicate balance of cream with the chocolate and sorbet was impeccable. When Hermione caught a glimpse of the bill before Lucius paid, however, her mouth nearly dropped open. Their bottles of wine alone had amounted to over 2500 pounds, none of which they had bothered to finish. She of course knew the Malfoys were one of the wealthiest families in Britain, but experiencing it firsthand felt completely different. Even though she had never gone without as a child, she never could've fathomed parting with that amount on a single meal.

After dinner, Lucius apparated the two of them to Malfoy Manor. Hermione had been taken by surprise when he reached for her hand and even more so when she had felt the rather unpleasant sensation that accompanies disapparating.

"I thought tonight was just business?" She asked, regaining her balance and releasing the wizard's hand.

"What exactly would you like to hear, Miss Granger?"

"I...oh gods, I don't know, Lucius."

The wizard gazed at her quite awhile, considering several scenarios that would explain her behaviour. He didn't like any of them.

"I don't mean to complicate things," She continued. "But that's just it. Everything feels so goddamn complicated."

"Nothing between you and I need be complicated." He sighed as she stood resolutely outside. "Come, it's cold." As he opened the door, he guided her inside and she acquiesced to his lead.

Inside the manor, Lucius led Hermione up the main staircase. She followed him into a room new to her. The floorboards were a dark mahogany and the focal point was a large four poster bed of darker cherry wood. The armoire and night stands were meticulously hand carved, each piece of furniture drawing her towards it.

"What room is this?"

"It's merely a guest bedroom; however, it may very well be my favourite."

"Are you going to take me here?"

"Yes."

She closed her eyes and when she reopened them, he was but a few short inches from her. His eyes were narrowed, but it seemed to her as though he were seeing every inch of her being. His firm hands reached around her to slowly inch down her zipper, reducing her dress to a pool at her feet. Underneath, she had donned champagne lingerie which seemed to please him. Leisurely, he began to circle her, his fingers grazing her hips as he observed her. She noticed his eyes fall on her fading bruises, but he made no comment. When he came to stand back in front of her, he finally spoke.

"Undress me."

Hermione quickly abided his direction, slipping off his blazer and unbuttoning his shirt with haste. She was once again enamoured with the fair flesh revealed. With less alcohol in her system, she felt better able to appreciate each taut muscle shifting beneath his skin. He brought his fingers to her face, brushing along the soft lines of her jaw with surprising gentleness. His eyes were a brilliant slate and the witch felt desperate to comprehend all the secrets they held. For just a moment, she was foolish enough to think he'd kiss her and shocked herself with how poignant her desire for that action was. Instead he closed his eyes, a sharp crease standing in relief between his brows.

"Lucius..." He swiftly brought a finger to her lips, effectively silencing the young witch. His eyes remained shut but a moment longer before he addressed her.

"I would like to try something."

Hermione was startled by his lack of blatant self-assuredness, but her curiosity did not allow her to question him. The hand that had halted her speech now drifted to push her hair out of her face while he slowly guided her to the bed. She fell back with an almost automaticity once she felt the wood behind her knees and found the blond upon her shortly thereafter.

"Lucius, we shouldn't be doing this," She murmured while looking anywhere but his face.

"Then tell me to stop."

"Lucius..."

"It has been a long time since I've had a conscience about anything. Nothing I plan to do will cause me any guilt. But you?" He breathed a chuckle without the slightest bit of mirth. "You just have to say stop."

But she didn't and soon his hands drifted lazily over her petite frame with his eyes following in their wake. Again they fell on the discoloured marks at her hips, his long, elegant digits tracing over them lightly.

"That's my work." He was not asking, but she answered all the same.

"Yes."

"But you did not mind." Also not a question.

"No." But she answered anyway.

"Why?"

"They felt...appropriate."

When his eyes returned to her face, they did not leave. She felt the motions of his hands as they relieved her of her undergarments and himself of his remaining clothing, but she did not turn away either. Briefly he caressed her body as he moved into position. He gave no warning, but slowly pushed himself into her.

Hermione's eyes rolled back and she released a breath she hadn't known she been holding. She had been ready for him without even realizing it. When he pulled out, he entered her again with agonising patience.

"Please, Lucius," She moaned. She couldn't comprehend his face, which seemed wrought with bemused determination, but gave little thought as he appeased her. His movements had become deep, purposeful thrusts, each sending shivers of pleasure through her, each hitting the perfect spot deep within her. Her fingers trailed down his back, holding him as close as she could manage while inadvertently leaving her own love marks.

There were no curses nor derogatory remarks about bloodlines; the room was only punctuated by the sounds of moaning and deep breathing. Hermione felt the slow build up within her, rising with each thrust of Lucius' hips. She felt a fullness with him inside her that she had yet to feel with anyone else and when his fingers reached down to the meeting of her thighs, it was only seconds before she was seeing stars. She came powerfully with his name on her lips and the clenching of her walls around him pushed him off the ledge. He continued strong, directed motions until all of him was released inside her. He didn't pull out immediately and Hermione was grateful for the intimate contact.

His eyes had not left her until he withdrew from her. That crease had formed again, but this time with eyes open as he stared at the ceiling. She did not interrupt his thoughts, instead letting her own eyes drift over him as she lay across the right side of his chest. Hermione caught uninterrupted sight of Lucius' left forearm for the first time since the war. It was the only time she had seen the dark mark on anyone following Voldemort's fall. It was no longer the jet black she remembered, but a dull red scar she couldn't help reaching out to.

"What exactly are you doing, Miss Granger?"

She pulled her fingers back, shaking her head. To her surprise, he brought his arm with its raised mark closer for her scrutiny.

"My past is no secret, I make no effort to hide it."

"But it is," She whispered.

"Pardon?"

"It is complicated."

"My past?"

"No, this. Everything. You said nothing between us need be complicated, but it is."

"Oh, hell, witch. I chose you because I expected your resentment for me would prevent such theatrics."

"Then what was that?" The witch demanded, no longer laying on the man before her. "That wasn't just mindless fucking, Lucius. I know the difference."

"Actually, that's exactly what it was. I cannot be responsible for what you feel afterwards. You're married, I'm married, we're not married to each other; that makes things pretty damn simple."

"You were different this time. We both know you were."

"Well, now that I know you prefer me being rough enough with you to leave bruises for your husband to find, I'll bear that in mind."

"Do you even feel guilty over sleeping with me here?"

"It's my house, why should I?"

"Because of your..." Hermione couldn't manage the word lying naked next to him.

"My wife? What difference is it?"

"She lives here!"

"Yes, generally she does reside here."

Hermione sighed and rolled away from the man. The drapes had been left open and she stared mutely into the moonlight dancing on his property.

"We had an agreement." He eventually said.

"Yes, you frequently remind me of such," She offered over her shoulder.

"So what is it you expect of me?" His voice seemed void of all emotion and it peeved her further. She rolled back towards him, taking in the refined lines of his face and burning clarity of his eyes.

"Just once I'd like you to tell me the truth. You've told me over and over how I'm bound to keep my mouth shut, so just be honest then. Why me?"

"I thought it rather obvious." She sat up, as though it offered a better vantage point for appraisal.

"I don't think sex is all you want."

"No?" The wizard had sat up as well, one eyebrow cocked in disinterested inquiry.

"No. When we started this, the first thing you said was how easy it was for you to get muggle women. Doing a little memory alteration on women with no magical defenses would've hardly been work for even a marginally talented wizard. I think you were looking for the things your marriage never provided."

His hand landed hard on her cheek.

"Do not presume things about that which you know nothing about."

Hermione had more or less expected his reaction. She knew she was pushing him, kept on him anyway, but even though his expression had remained impassive, for just a moment she witnessed emotion in him. The hot sting where he had made contact seemed to spread, yet she did not move and neither did he. The resonating sound of the front door slamming jolted them back to reality.

"That'll be Narcissa." Malfoy spoke calmly.

Quietly, Hermione slipped out of the bed and cast a dressing charm before grabbing her bag.

"Can I disapparate from within the house?"

"Yes."

Briefly, they gazed at each other and Hermione wondered what she had gotten herself into.

"Goodbye, Lucius."

She closed her eyes and with the condensing pressure typical of apparition felt herself pulled from Malfoy Manor.

* * *

Sorry it has been so long! I just finished my fall semester this past Thursday and I'm not sure that I've written more or more technical papers as I have in the last few weeks. Hence the lack of writing for fun. Hopefully I'll be writing more regularly, though, at least for a few weeks. Again, thank you to everyone who's read so far and especially those of you who've reviewed, please do continue. Cheers.


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